


obon

by blue-plums (arabesque05)



Category: Naruto
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-24
Updated: 2014-11-24
Packaged: 2019-09-15 23:39:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16942911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arabesque05/pseuds/blue-plums
Summary: because papa takes care of the bonfires for obon, mama is the one who takes sarada to the bon odori.





	obon

Because papa takes care of the bonfires for  _obon_ , mama is the one who takes Sarada to the  _bon odori._  Papa says things like, “I wish I could, Sara-chan,” and “I’m sure it will be spectacular this year, too,” and “You’ll tell papa all about it, won’t you?”—but mostly he looks relieved. Mama gives him the stink eye and says things like, “Do you think  _I_  want to spend the evening watching our Hokage-sama parade down the street practically naked?” and “Who the fuck decided this was a good dance for  _obon_?” and “You owe me so much, you asshole”—while papa covers Sarada’s ears with his hands.

As far as celebrations to honor ancestor spirits go, Konoha’s  _obon_  festivities lack much in the way of dignity. Mama gripes to papa that this is because Konoha’s Hokage lacks much in the way of dignity. Papa nods and pours her some more sake.

Still, Sarada likes  _obon_. She and mama dress up in pretty yukata, and papa doesn’t say much but he looks at them a lot, which is papa’s way of liking things. Eventually, as the night sets in, they head out. Papa has a bucket in one hand, full of water, and lanterns in the other. He takes them past their house, past the school, past the park, all the way to the river.

By the river, there is a small shrine. They give it a thorough cleaning. Then they light the candles in the lanterns: one for grandpapa, one for grandmama, and one for uncle. Mama produces sake from somewhere and pours it in offering.

Later on in the evening, there will be respects that must be paid to heroes. But—first—there are respects that must be paid to family.

* * *

When the candles have burned down, they gather their things. Papa goes off to make bonfire preparations. Mama makes a face at his back, then leads Sarada towards the village festival.

There are lanterns strung up all around the village, bright and welcoming. They stop by a yakisoba vendor stall, and by a goldfish scooping competition, and then a shaved ice stall. Sarada gets a peach-flavored one; mama gets two cherry-flavored ones—“One for me and one for your papa”—though mama eats both.

Some time after that, a yell goes up from near the Hokage tower; and then the sound of drums start. The dance parade makes its way down the street: drummers and floats with huge lanterns and dancers in elaborate masks; and in the lead, Hokage-sama, practically naked as mama had predicted, his hair brighter than any lantern. The procession makes its way through town. Mama takes sarada’s hand and they follow.

They end up at the obsidian monument at the edge of town, the one for the fallen heroes. Hokage-sama’s father’s name is on that stone; and Asuma-kun’s papa; and Boruto-kun’s uncle. The drums quiet. Without prompt, people start turning toward the Hokage cliffs. “Look, Sara-chan,” says mama, and Sarada turns as well.

A moment later, a sheet of flames go up from the top of the cliffs—and then another, and another. It is bigger and brighter than any fire Sarada has seen before: the sort of fire only a forest could set ablaze. There are no trees on top of the Hokage-cliffs, though—“It’s papa!” whispers Sarada, excitedly. “Yes,” smiles mama.

On the sloping cliff, papa has written out of fire the word for fire. It is a beacon to light the way of the departing dead, a rememberance of the spirits from the land of fire. And perhaps, also—for papa, and mama, and Sarada, it is the emblem of their clan on the mountains overlooking Konoha: a reminder that the Uchiha fire still burns, and that it still has a hearth.

* * *

Papa finds them eating watermelon on the grassy embankment of the river. “You didn’t get one for me?” he asks, settling down on the grass as well.

“I did,” says mama. “And then i ate it for you.”

“I see,” says papa. After a pause, he says wryly, “Thank you.”

Night has settled deeply now. Fireflies come out, wisping about like floating candlelight. Sarada lies down on the grass, resting her head on papa’s lap. Mama smooths a hand over Sarada’s hair. Sarada asks, “What was grandmama like?”

Papa thinks about it for a minute. He says, “Very kind. She smiled a lot, and cheered everyone on.”

Sarada waits. You have to be patient with papa, who always takes his time. Further down the river, there is a loud boom. Fireworks bloom in the night sky.

Papa says, looking up at the fireworks: “Grandmama had really pretty handwriting for formal things, but for household notes it was pretty much indecipherable.” Mama leans against him, head against papa’s shoulder. They both look up, faces lit in gold and red and orange. Papa continues, quietly, for just the three of them, “Grandmama always wrote these grocery lists that no one could read, and your uncle and I sometimes had to do the shopping, and one week, we ended up buying…”

* * *

The Uchiha dead are many, but most of them are not listed on the monument of heroes. Sarada is reminded of this, every  _obon_. But at the same time, Sarada learns about her grandmother who smiled a lot, and her uncle who fretted over grocery lists.

In the grand scheme of things, Sarada is fine with this. If she had to choose, family must come before heroes.

Her ancestors probably chose the same.

 


End file.
